Tomorrows
by Trinity005
Summary: 5 people. 5 chances for a different tomorrow.
1. John Stillman

**Author's note: **I postponed my next casefile, because inspiration for this fic hit me bad. This is supposed to be a "happy angst" fic, if there's such a thing. I hope you all enjoy it. As always, reviews are more than welcome.

**Possible spoilers for this chapter:** 2x16 "Revenge"

**Thanks:** to my beta-reader, AndreaB.

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**Chapter 1 – John Stillman**

One more case closed. One more criminal put to jail. "Late is better than never", you could call it our motto. I'd take this motto into my personal life, if only people were as patient as the criminal justice system – as long as you can prove your case, it doesn't really matter if 30 years have gone by. But for a real person, my friend, try waiting 30 years to set things straight.

I pick up the phone. "How's the boy?" I ask, and, against my efforts, it sounds forced.

"Sleeping." She answers straightforwardly. "He's just great."

"And how are you?" Better late...

Long pause. Each second echoes how far we've drifted away. "I'm fine too." The answer is quick and unwelcoming. We hang up.

On the next Sunday, I wake up earlier. I drive downtown, there's something I need to get – an excuse.

Next thing I'm standing at her front door. She opens it, the boy in her arms, a surprised smile shifting from me to the huge teddy bear I'm holding in my hands. "I saw this today and I thought he'd like it." Still not knowing what to make of this she lets me in.

Her house is simple but carefully decorated. The toys spread all around the floor don't give you a bad impression of mess; instead, they spell "home". We take a seat in the living room, where her husband is. I take the boy in my arms, but he's more interested in the brown teddy bear I got him, than in me.

It's almost noon, and they invite me for lunch. I don't know if it's only out of obligation, but I'm glad anyway. Lunch goes smoothly and I stay quiet most of the time. I don't want to step in the middle of this wonderful thing they have going. The glow in her eyes is a familiar feeling to me, and it warms my heart, even though for me that glow faded away a long time ago.

As she walks me to the door, I ask her if we can make this a weekly thing. I'm not at all surprised by her stunning and lack of words, but I fear them. Then, in between a shy and uncertain smile, she mutters, "It'd be great". I thank her and give her a kiss in her forehead. She's holding the boy and he's got his arms open to me.

I can't help a smile as I feel my heart full and alive again. You just gotta do what you gotta do, and tomorrow will give you a new chance – arms open wide to you.

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Nick Vera will be next...


	2. Nick Vera

**Spoilers for this chapter:** 2x18 "Ravaged"

**Thanks:** to my beta-reader, AndreaB.

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**Chapter 2 – Nick Vera**

A tough guy would say, "Don't look back. Don't cry over the past." There are times when it seems that the more the years went by; the closer the past is to you right now.

Today we called an early night. One more case closed. Stillman sent us all home, with one more thanks for a good job done.

A million "what if" questions came to my mind as I watched her walk away from the station that day. But "what ifs" don't change the consequences of the choices you made, and those are the things we ought to stick out to.

Yeah, I know, someone will say, "It's never too late." Right, it isn't. But there are some things you just don't do. Not to some people. And there are things you can't fix. They're still as important as they've always been, but they're out of your reach now. As I leave the building, I take one last look at that corner she turned and disappeared, and I make my way home.

When I open the door, I see the light in the kitchen is on. I'm not surprised she didn't wait for me to have dinner. I'm never home so early in the night. I go into the kitchen, and she's sitting at the table, staring at her plate, far from actually eating what's in it. At the sound of my footsteps, she turns her head. Her face shows no reaction. I walk up to the stove and fill a plate with food, even though I'm not hungry. But right now I need to sit there with her, and sadly, we've reached a point where I need an excuse to do that.

I sigh as I think how I could've gone to the bar instead, but I quickly shake that thought off. We're putting quite a scene, the both of us. Disputing who's got the most fascinating food plate. "So, what happened today?" She starts. "Atomic bomb alert? Bars were ordered to close?" I feel my blood heating up, but I just look the other way. She stares at me for a moment, waiting for the comeback, and I believe my silence hurts her even more.

She goes back to stare her plate. "I'm sorry." I say, trying to look into her eyes. She just stares at me; eyes wide open with surprise.

"What for?" She asks, almost in a whisper.

"For not being here to have dinner with you every night," I answer, and this metaphor is the best thing I can come up with right now. She nods lightly, with a timid smile. "Let's take a walk," I say suddenly, and any objections she had to make are muffled with me getting up and signing for her to follow me.

As we walk down our street, we're silent; but for the first time in years it's not an uncomfortable silence. She's staring at me most of the time, and I'm pretty sure she's trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Still in silence she takes my hand and we keep on walking.

The right path might be dark and steep, but if you take it, tomorrow will give you a new chance – maybe even offer a hand to you.

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Will Jeffries will be next...


	3. Will Jeffries

**Author's note:** Jeffries was the toughest one to figure out what to write. I had to make up a few things in order to make his chapter possible – so this is a very AU chapter.

**Spoilers for this chapter:** 2x22 "Best Friends"

**Thanks:** to my beta reader, AndreaB; and to Joutsensydn for some creative help.

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**Chapter 3 – Will Jeffries**

As I sit here alone in this bar, there isn't much to celebrate. I never felt much like celebrating life anymore since she went away.

If my kids were here, they'd say, "Let it go, Dad. It wasn't your fault," like they've said so many times. I shouldn't have shut them out. I shouldn't have yelled at them that they didn't know what my pain was like. We live the consequences of our own actions, and that's why when my son graduated from Law School I only got an invitation in the mail. Or why I only heard that my daughter is expecting a baby through a message in my answering machine.

It's not like we hate each other or anything. No, I love them and I know they love me, but I drove them apart. I stare at the circles in the scotch, and all I can see is her face. The jazz music playing in the background gives me the shivers. I've heard it before. Suddenly I'm 35 years back in time, and while we're dancing she's whispering in my ear that she's expecting our first child.

I drink the whole scotch at once and leave the bar hastily. At home, I throw myself in the couch, grab the remote and flip through channels, even though I know I won't find anything I want to watch. I turn off the TV, to do what I came home to do.

I finally look at the phone. Three messages on my answering machine. The first two are from old co-workers. I can't believe they remember me, because I certainly didn't call them on their last birthdays. The third is from my daughter. "Hey, Dad, it's Veronica. Happy birthday." Her tone of voice isn't exactly cheery. Then to my surprise, a male voice speaks. "Dad, it's Martin. I'm here at Veronica's place. Happy birthday." Both sound like they're just doing some kind of annoying obligation, those you do only to avoid feeling guilty later.

I reach for the phone, but hesitate. Then I remember the circles of the scotch, the jazz music in the background, and what she wants me to do.

I press the # 1 on my dial. "Veronica? It's Dad." I say as she picks up the phone. Surprised, she wishes me happy birthday again. "How are you doing?" I ask. She has only one month before her due date. She quickly tells me about the baby – it's a girl. "Is Martin there?" I ask, and she puts me on the speaker.

"Hey, Dad," he says in a much colder tone. I ask how he's doing and thank them for calling me. Then, I ask them to come for dinner tomorrow night. There's silence in the speaker for a few moments, but they agree. Veronica is bringing her husband and Martin asks if he can bring someone to, being immediately teased by his sister. They can't see, but I'm smiling at them.

Starting again is hard indeed, but worth it – because tomorrow always gives a second chance to you.

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Scotty Valens will be next...


	4. Scotty Valens

**Spoilers for this chapter:** 2x21 "Creatures of the Night"

**Thanks:** to my beta-reader, AndreaB; and to Snow Ivy for a big help with episode info.

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**Chapter 4 – Scotty Valens**

I can't go home after work anymore. My house is empty again.

I haven't had much luck with the ladies lately. I could easily blame them, but right now, I'm not that sunk in denial anymore that I can't blame myself too. For an outsider, it might look like I've been simply taking the easy way out – letting Elisa go to the hospital, turning to Chris for comfort, ignoring Lilly's warnings. But that's not what happened. At least, it surely didn't feel like the easy way out.

The warm spring breeze hits my face lightly. It's that time of the year when the city starts to be alive again. I reach for my pocket and I feel her note there. "Sorry. C." I could hate her for that, but I don't. Whatever she did, I know she's truly sorry for this. Like I am, like Lilly probably is, like Elisa was.

Feeling sorry won't help you much, though. Or excuse your actions. People need more than words saying you're sorry, they need actions too.

But right now words are all I can offer. I pick up my cell phone and dial her number. "Rush." She answers at the first ring.

"Hey, Lil, it's me." I say.

"Hey, Scotty," she greets, her voice cold, as it has been lately.

Then I let myself go. "I'm sorry to do this over the phone, but I had to do it now. I'm sorry, Lil. For everything." She doesn't answer immediately, but I can hear her breath on the other end of the line.

"Me too, Scotty." She finally says, and her voice is lighter and it was before. "Let's try to put this behind us." She adds. I quickly agree and shortly after we hang up.

I keep on walking and half an hour later I reach my destination. I never came here, not even on the day she was buried. I just couldn't. Her grave is simple and beautiful, like she was.

I walk closer to it. "I'm sorry, El. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I had given up. I'm sorry for not accepting this until now. I know you always felt misunderstood. But I always knew what you wanted, and I promise that's what I'll do from now on." I pause, trying to catch my breath and my courage. "I'm going to be happy." I put a white rose on her grave, and leave.

Turning the page doesn't mean never coming back. Turning the page means looking ahead – and writing your new tomorrow.

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Lilly Rush will be next...


	5. Lilly Rush

**Author's note: **I hope this won't be disappointing to anyone, but this is a pre – "The Woods" chapter. "The Woods" hasn't aired where I live and I didn't want to walk on that territory without watching it. I did it with "Creatures of the Night" and "Best Friends", but I didn't want to do it with "The Woods".

**Spoilers for this chapter:** 2x21 "Creatures of the Night"

**Thanks:** to my beta-reader, AndreaB.

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**Chapter 5 – Lilly Rush**

I toss my suitcase and my coat in the couch. The same happens at the end of every investigation. I feel both relieved and drained. However, my feelings have been quite unbalanced lately. The relief hasn't made up for all the draining. And I know very well why.

Olivia is now trying to crawl under the couch. She can't fit in there, but she's desperate to reach for something. I smile, "Hey, what have you got there?" and reach down the couch.

A hair clip. That's what she was reaching for. It's of a vivid shade of red, and it's definitely not mine. It's hers. Flashbacks play quickly in my head. "It's been nice having you around, Chris." I flip the hair clip in my fingers. "I'm going to take you out for your birthday."

I was falling for her charms again, then why wouldn't he? Too bad she played her game with us again. She's a master at it, I must say. I shake my head, letting out a bitter smile. I wonder if she's aware that I envy her sometimes. I shake my head again, get up, open a drawer on the living room cabinet, toss the hair clip there and close it.

I wonder how and when we ended up like this. I used to think it was after the Patrick incident. After the last events I had been thinking it was when we realized we'd never have a mother, at least in the practical meaning of the word. No one to tuck you into bed, no one to fix your milk and chocolate in a cold winter night. Grow up by yourself, if you want to. In the end, I guess it was always meant to be like this.

Not that this knowledge makes me feel any better. I used to believe I could just shrug at the unpleasant events in my life and move on. Denial becomes a way of life. The truth is, I've been spending some nice bucks to have a full-time nurse taking care of my mother, but I can't make myself visit her more than once every couple of months. And that counts those times when I can't get pass the living room into her bedroom.

Like now, when I'm sitting in my car, in front of her house, for the last half an hour. Let's face it. Lilly Rush can't forgive and forget.

So, again, I drive away. I never noticed how predictable I am. As always, I end up here. Files that are more than 20 years old are sent down to the second basement. The pages are starting to get yellow on the borders. The whole place smells like the past – enough to make you sick.

I already know the words by heart and I have memorized the pictures. Like I said, Lilly Rush can't forgive and forget. I take the file, and I tell the floor's archivist it's related to a homicide case. She doesn't ask any questions. Like most people in our line of work, she has become numb. Or she tries to.

I shove the file in my desk drawer, and I don't think about it for the rest of the day. Before leaving, though, I discreetly put it in my suitcase.

3 a.m. I read the file for the 100th time tonight. The detectives back then said it was a dead case. I look at the drawing that was made from my description. There isn't such a thing as a dead case. At least not until there's justice to it.

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There might be a post-"The Woods" chapter for Lilly.

Thanks all of you for reading, and stay tuned for the next fics...


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